The Icy Kingdom
by California gal
Summary: Ned & Veronica are mysteriously transported to an underground world, from which there is no escape, unless... Marguerite?


The Icy Kingdom **__**

The Icy Kingdom

Dedicated to Ashley & all the other N&V-shippers

As frequently happened on the plateau, the weather changed without warning. Two days ago they had set out from the tree house on a pleasant morning that warmed into a comfortable day, and the second day, upon reaching their destination, had been equally fine. However, the sun that rose on the third day was a blazing copper sphere and soon temperatures soared, while every semblance of a breeze ceased entirely. Although they had planned to remain a week in their exploration of the river and the waterfall area, it soon became apparent that that would not be wise.

"It's crazy," Ned Malone commented, half to himself as they trudged across the broad open meadow, aiming for a grove of trees that would offer some shade. "It's almost as though someone somewhere keeps pulling all these tricks on us just to see if we can survive them."

Roxton glanced back over his shoulder at the younger man, whose unprotected face was perspiring freely. He recalled asking the journalist back in London if he did not plan to take a hat on the trip, to which Malone airily replied that he never wore a hat. 

"Like we're in a big fishbowl you mean?" 

"Something like that," Malone replied.

"Ridiculous," George Challenger muttered, and looked quickly at the woman walking at his side. Marguerite Krux was too intent on placing one weary foot ahead of the other to notice the lack of conviction in his word. Just now he did not really want to admit that similar thoughts had occurred to him more than once but such ideas were too fanciful for a real scientist to consider.

"I just hope we find some water," Roxton commented, and twisted his head around to look back toward the trailing member of their party. "Veronica, is this the area you said had springs?"

"There was once," the young woman replied, and did not need to say any more. They all understood the vagaries of the water supply as well as the weather on this plateau.

Several weeks ago they had been back to the river where a terrible battle had been fought nearly a year ago with Drakul's horde, led there by an apparition of their former comrade, Arthur Summerlee. Last year the river had been a raging torrent, which actually saved Roxton's life when he fell into it, while at the same time carrying Summerlee over the falls, apparently to his death. However, on that most recent venture trailing the "ghost," the river had been completely dry. They had not remained in the area, partly because their supplies were dwindling, but also due to Malone's injuries and exhaustion.

Recently, Challenger, abetted by Malone, had suggested another trek to the area, because now they had new questions about the professor's actual fate. Perhaps they could explore the river bed and find answers. This time they packed up what they felt were sufficient provisions to allow them to make a thorough search, as well as weaponry in case the remnants of Drakul's barbarians were still in the area.

The sudden upward shift in the temperature had forestalled making the trek all the way to the falls this time. Although they had brought water sufficient for an ordinary journey, the heat made more frequent consumption of liquid necessary, and thus the canteens were becoming dangerously low, especially if the temperatures continued to soar; no viable springs were located in the region of the dry river bed. They also found that nighttime did not bring much relief from the oppressive heat.

Upon gaining the stretch of trees and some relief in the shade, Veronica took the lead and guided the party toward a series of low, rocky hills, at last pausing while still under the leafy canopy to gaze up at the bare rocks. "There," she said, lifting her arm and pointing halfway up the nearest hillock. "See that shine? There's a spring still flowing."

"Thank God," Marguerite murmured, sinking onto a fallen log. She could not remember the last time she felt so drained. She had rolled the sleeves of her blouse up above the elbow, but the fabric was soaked with perspiration, sticking to her skin. Marguerite was aware that she likely looked like a harridan, with sweat-matted hair adhering to her neck, but she didn't much care. She had been too exhausted to even complain, and she knew that was one reason why Roxton had cast several concerned glances in her direction, glances that amused, irked, and pleased her.

"Give me the canteens," Veronica said. "I'll go fill them. You rest here." She knew that her brief costume was giving her a distinct advantage in the heat, although she had definitely felt the hot rays on her bare head, and her golden hair was sticking to her face and neck.

"I'll go with you," Malone quickly volunteered, shrugging off his pack. For half a moment he thought she was going to refuse the offer, but then she smiled and handed him two of the flasks she had just accepted from the others.

"I'll build a fire," Roxton said, and quickly anticipated the words that were going to accompany the astonished expression on Marguerite's face. "Some food will give us more stamina."

"Agreed," Challenger said, dropping his backpack. "Veronica, Ned, take it easy. It'll be even hotter on those rocky slopes."

"We won't run," Veronica grinned as they set off.

"Whew," Malone whistled softly. "I do believe we don't need a fire. All we have to do is put a kettle on one of these rocks." The heat seemed to be radiating from below as well as from above as they began to scale the slope. "Do you suppose the water will even be cold?"

Veronica laughed. "All I know is that it'll be wet."

"That's enough for me!"

Neither spoke again as they continued to climb. Malone glanced back once and saw that Marguerite was still sitting on the log, while Roxton was on his knees getting a small fire started. They were all exhausted. He wondered what his companions would say to a suggestion of remaining in this spot for the rest of the day and night, and perhaps even starting out before daylight. He smiled to himself. Damn good idea. He would proffer it as soon as they returned with the water. No doubt everyone would concur. Not often did he have inspirations like that, ones that would help the group.

"There it is," Veronica said, and led the way to the site where water was bubbling out between two large rocks. She knelt and dipped her fingers into it. "It is cold." Leaning over, she cupped her hands to draw some of the liquid up to her mouth. "And good!"

Malone dropped down to his haunches, opening one of the canteens, which he handed to Veronica. He glanced around while she held the mouth of the vessel to the trickling stream. The water emerged, flowed a few feet, and then disappeared into another crack, leaving only a small pool and

He frowned, gazing at the spot just before where the water vanished again. Damned if that didn't look like–no, not possible. Not in this heat. Then what was it? Putting the other canteen on the ground, he rose and stepped down the hill a bit, leaning over. Tentatively he extended his hand and held it near the shiny patch.

"Ice!" He said it aloud, and touched the spot with two of his fingers. "Damn it! What the hell?"

"What is it?" Veronica asked, alarmed by his anxious tone. She dropped the canteen and moved over beside him. "What's that?"

"Don't!" Malone cried, but it was too late. She had put her hand onto the spot.

"Ned! What is that? I can't free my hand!" Veronica tugged, but it seemed as though the only way to get her fingers loose would be to tear the skin off.

"It's crazy," he muttered, pulling at his own hand. "It's cold, like ice. Reminds me of winter days back in New York. If you touched an icy cold metal flagpole, say, your fingers would stick. Best way to get them free was to pour water"

Both looked toward the spring, where the canteens rested, quite out of reach. Veronica gazed at their adhered hands again. "How could there be ice here?"

"I don't know. I guess we're going to have to yell down for someone to come up and pour water for us. They can"

****

"What the hell?" Marguerite jerked erect, and then quickly got to her feet, peering up toward the hillside.

Roxton looked around from the fire that had just burst into a healthy flame. "What's wrong?"

"They're gone!"

"Who's gone?" Challenger inquired, pulling dried raptor meat from his backpack. Boiled along with some root vegetables they had also toted along, it would comprise a nourishing soup.

"Ned and Veronica!" Marguerite exclaimed, reaching for the hat and the rifle she had placed on the log. "They vanished."

Now John Roxton was on his feet, disturbed by the agitation in her voice and face. She was already heading toward the slope. With several long, swift strides he reached her and grabbed her arm. "Wait. What are you talking about? Where did they go?" Challenger joined them at the edge of the shade.

"I told you! They vanished! I was watching them and all of a sudden, they just weren't there."

Both men scanned the area. They knew that the pair had been completely visible all the way up the slope. Roxton had last looked their direction as Ned and Veronica gained the spring and began to fill the canteens. 

"Where would they have gone?" Challenger asked of no one in particular.

"They vanished!" Marguerite repeated in exasperation. Now she shook loose of Roxton's grasp and started toward the slope.

The two men glanced at each other, then grabbed their rifles and followed. They climbed the slope, easily seeing the trail of disturbed rocks left by Veronica and Malone. Roxton looked to either side, seeking a sign of movement by some other person or creature or the pair themselves. The slopes were so bare of trees and even large boulders, it seemed unlikely that anyone could be hiding anywhere. Why would Malone and Veronica want to hide, anyway?

The canteens were on the rocks alongside the stream, one of them full and capped. Malone's rifle lay on the ground next to the spring. Marguerite and Challenger remained in one place while Roxton carefully searched the surrounding area. He finally turned to them with complete confusion on his face.

"They didn't leave here."

"Then where are they?" Marguerite demanded. She looked at the narrow stream and her gaze followed it to where it sank into a crevice, vanishing as surely as their friends had. A pool of clear water lay just before the point of disappearance, and she absently reached down and touched it. Cold and wet. Just what they had been seeking. However, right now, water was the furthest from her thoughts.

"This doesn't make sense," Roxton complained.

George Challenger's face became grim. "It is not like it's the first time."

****

"What is this place?" Veronica demanded, a touch of fear in her voice. They had been in the bright, hot sunshine a moment ago. Now their surroundings were dim and cold; very cold.

Malone caught her hand. "I don't know. I don't know how we got here." He gazed around, seeing what appeared to be walls of a cave, but not like any cave he had seen thus far on the plateau. Though the illumination was not nearly so bright as it had been outside, these walls cast off an eerie glow, allowing them to easily see each other and to note that the cave had but one exit, a tunnel. Both knew, however, they had not entered through that tunnel. Ned put his free hand at his waist, and felt the reassuring leather of his holster there, and the hard cold metal of his pistol.

"Those walls" Veronica murmured.

"They look like ice," Malone finished. Only this time they would not touch them to test the composition. He did not know how it had been accomplished, but he was certain that putting their fingers onto that patch of ice on the earth's surface had somehow transported them into this alarming place.

"Listen," his companion whispered, and both caught their breaths. From somewhere, they could hear a murmur of voices, voices that seemed to be approaching through the tunnel.

Malone released Veronica's hand and drew his pistol, stepping slightly in front of her. Without looking, he knew she had drawn the knife from its boot sheathe. Who knew whether either weapon would be effective? All he knew was that they would not go down without a fight.

Veronica held her breath, the fingers of her right hand gripping the hilt of the knife tightly, trying to be ready for anything. They were trapped here. The walls of the cave appeared solid. The voices were coming ever nearer. She strained her ears for words, but caught none that were intelligible yet. She almost thought she heard female as well as male tones, but was unsure.

The appearance of the man who stepped into the tunnel opening surprised them both. A tall, erect man with a regal mien, with a pale, lined face and silvery-white hair that flowed over the shoulders of his heavily brocaded floor-length robe in a shade of scarlet. A gleaming white fur trimmed the collar and cuffs of the robe. He took about three steps into the cave and halted, gazing at them with pale eyes.

"The sentry was correct," he said in a mild voice. "New visitors have arrived."

Four other people followed, two of them women; all were attired in similar robes of brilliant color but these other four were younger. The older of the two woman had fair hair streaked with gray falling to her shoulders; the younger woman had much darker hair, yet bore a resemblance to the other woman. Of the two other men, one looked to be near the same age as the older woman, but his hair was nearly as white as that of the elder man, while the second man was quite a bit younger, of a stocky build, and brownish hair that again fell over his shoulders. None of them seemed to be armed, and all had pallid complexions.

"Who are you?" Malone demanded, forcing his voice to be steadier than he actually felt. He did not point the pistol at the group, but held it firmly.

The older male, a burly man with a square face, responded sharply. "Quiet! You will not address his majesty until addressed."

The elderly man held out a calming hand. "Hush, Gando. They are newcomers." He took a step forward. "Welcome to our home. I am Carda, king of the frozen mountains. How did you come to be here?"

Veronica stepped out from behind Malone, and she held her knife as well, but not in a threatening position. "We don't know how we got here. We were out there," she waved toward the ceiling of the cave, "And suddenly we were in here."

The two women looked at each other, and the older of the two leaned forward to whisper something in Carda's ear. The monarch nodded. "What is your name?"

"My name is Ned Malone," the journalist replied. "This is Veronica. Where are we?"

Now the two younger men exchanged glances, and Veronica thought that whatever passed between them was not a happy thought. Involuntarily, she shivered; the cold was beginning to affect her.

"Father," the older woman said, "She is not attired suitably. Let us take them both to the palace."

"Wait a minute," Ned protested. "What's going on here? What is this place? We have friends who will be worried about us." Although how in the hell Roxton would find them he had no idea.

"There is nothing to worry about," Carda said, smiling kindly. "I assure you. Our home is your home. We have been waiting for you."

****

"Damn it," John Roxton muttered, staring up at the moonlit slopes. He thought he was talking to himself, until the hand gently touched his arm.

"We'll find them."

He gazed down at the sad smile on Marguerite's lovely face. Her hand slid down and slipped into his own. "They can't have just vanished, Marguerite. It's not possible."

"But they did," she said softly, and shook her head at the incredible memory. "They were there, and then–they weren't. I felt as though I was seeing things, John. They simply disappeared."

Roxton looked back behind them, where Challenger was seated, leaning against a tree, dozing with his chin down on his chest, then brought his gaze back to his companion. "We've seen so many strange things here, it's hard to disbelieve anything. But there's always been an explanation, or at least an opportunity to, well, make it right. To escape. This" He shook his head.

"We'll find them. We'll find the explanation. First thing in the morning, we'll scour the whole area until we do."

"Get some sleep," he urged, and touched her face with his free hand. "I'll wake Challenger after awhile to take over for me."

****

Ned Malone looked down at himself and half wished there was a mirror in the cave-room. This was quite a garb for a New York street kid. He had to admit it was certainly warmer. The nearly floor-length coat was similar to the ones King Carda and his companions wore, but without the fur trim. He could not quite figure out the fabric–something woven, but as much like heavy satin as wool. The color was azure blue, with threads of a lighter blue interspersed in a pattern to cause it to resemble waves when moved. His mother, with her blue eyes, would have looked fantastic in this coat, he mused.

Lifting his gaze, he looked at the young man now standing at the entrance to the room who had fetched the coat and whom Ned had heard addressed as Wendo. His cloak was not nearly so elaborate, in a dull brown shade, and the stone-pointed spear he carried indicated he was some sort of guard, though he had not spoken once, his face expressionless. "Can you take me to my friend?" Ned asked, unsure of what the response would be, just as he had waited for some reaction when he donned the coat overtop of his regular clothes–and his holstered gun. But the guard had remained impassive. Either they did not know what the weapon was, or did not care. Even though the long coat was going to make it difficult to get at the gun, Ned felt better with the weapon still on his person.

He was more than surprised when the man simply turned and exited. Malone followed him, once more staring at his surroundings. A maze of passages and rooms carved out of the inner mountain, it seemed. He could not tell whether they had been created by nature or humans, but they appeared to be very old. The temperature was chilly everywhere, thus the need for the warm garb. They passed several people dressed similarly to the guard. Ned began to realize to have been offered this splendid cloak was likely something of an honor. But why? The persons they encountered stared at him momentarily, then quickly lowered their heads, almost in fear or–and he thought this most unlikely–awe.

He had not liked it when King Carda insisted Veronica go with the women, while the monarch and the man he had called Gando escorted Malone to the small room and instructed him to wait. Moments later the guard arrived with the coat. But where was Veronica? Being treated as courteously? Or had they been separated so that Malone could not help but remember how the party that had greeted them had all stared hard at Veronica. Well, they had been interested in him as well, but it had seemed to him that Veronica was the focus of their attention. Why? Who the devil were these people?

After making several dizzying turns, yet seeming to know where he was going, the sentry led Malone down a wider passage, and paused just outside an open doorway. Malone hesitated just long enough to realize that he was supposed to proceed, and then stepped into an amazing chamber.

The ceiling was as high as any great hall he had ever visited in the States or Europe, dome-shaped, with some vaulting carved into the stone. The walls of this room were covered with illustrated tapestries in brilliant colors, and more woven materials were on the floor. At one side, cut into the wall, was a slightly raised area, with several stone chairs covered with draping cloths. King Carda sat on the largest, middle chair, the older of the two women who had been with him earlier at his right, and on his left–Veronica!

She got to her feet, and Malone saw by her expression that she had been as concerned for his safety as he had been for hers. But he spent only an instant studying her lovely face, as he could not help but gape at her garb. Her long cloak was virtually identical to his own, save hers had the white fur-like trim at the collar and sleeves. The same shade of azure with the same woven pattern. Were these reserved for visitors? How many visitors could they have in this weird place anyway!

She looked stunningly beautiful, Ned realized. He had long thought her the loveliest woman in the world, with her golden hair, blue eyes and bronze skin, but this color seemed to accent all those attributes. 

"Ned! Are you all right?" Veronica stepped down from the throne area and moved toward him. He looked strange in the floor-length coat, but also quite handsome. How odd that it should be so similar to her own.

"I'm fine," he smiled. "Warmer. What's going on?"

"I really don't know. King Carda said he would tell us later." 

Malone turned to face the ruler. "Your highness, we appreciate your hospitality, but we have friends who will be very concerned about us. Can you please show us the exit to the outside world?" He was aware that other people were entering the room behind him, and it made him edgy, but he did not look around.

Carda gazed at him with a smile on his face. "Sir Malonda, I am honored to tell you that you and the Lady Veronella have found your way home. We have been waiting for you for all these many years."

For a long moment both Veronica and Ned stared at him, and then exchanged a glance. Veronica spoke then. "What are you talking about?"

"What did you call us?" Malone asked. Now he looked behind him. Probably more than a hundred people, all adults, had entered. Some were garbed both in the finer shimmering fabrics in many bright colors, while others wore the duller materials that seemed to indicate commoners. "My name is Malone, Edward Malone. My companion is Veronica."

The woman spoke up. "Those were your outside world names. But here we know you are Malonda and Veronella."

King Carda spoke before either of the newcomers could respond, "You have not been introduced to my daughter, the Princess Mella. Nor have you been introduced to your subjects." He stood up. "My friends, allow me to present, as the legend foretold, Sir Malonda and Lady Veronella. The ice brought them to us. They will save our kingdom."

The assembled group applauded and called out words of welcome, their voices filled with obvious joy. Veronica noticed only two persons who were not cheerfully greeting them. One was the young woman who had been with Mella at the initial meeting; the other was the guard who had remained beside the door when Ned entered the throne room. She knew from something that had been said earlier by the two servant women who had assisted her with her robe that the young woman was Mella's daughter, King Carda's granddaughter.

There were more pressing concerns, however, than wondering why this lone pair did not display the happiness of their fellow citizens. One more time she looked at Ned, and saw the bafflement on his face. She turned to the king as the ovation faded. "Your highness, forgive me, but we have no idea what you are talking about. We don't belong here. We live in the–the world outside."

"So you have believed. But we knew you would return to us when we needed you."

Malone stepped forward. "And why do you need us? What do you expect from us?"

Carda's white brows lifted in apparent surprise. "Why, to produce the heir to the throne, of course!"

****

"We need to return to the tree house," Challenger said solemnly.

"No, damn it!" Roxton protested. "Not until we find them."

Marguerite looked at his anguished face. "John, we are running out of supplies. George is right. We can come back"

"You two go," Roxton said firmly. "I'm staying here. They have to be here somewhere. They have to be!"

Challenger glanced at Marguerite, then spoke softly but firmly. "Roxton, it's been two days. We've scoured every inch of that rocky scarp. There is no sign"

"That's why we can't leave them! We can't desert them! Something strange happened, one of the goddamn unexplainable things that happen in this goddamn place! You know Ned and Veronica won't give up without a fight. Whoever, whatever has them"

Marguerite grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in her own. "John, please. We know as well as you do what could have, what might have happened. But we don't know what _did _happen." She stared up at his gaunt, unshaven countenance. He probably had not slept more than six hours since the disappearance of their friends and it was beginning to tell on him, physically and emotionally. "We can return to the tree house, Challenger can get some equipment, and"

"No!" He jerked his hand free, aware of his own unreasonableness, yet unable and unwilling to alter his mindset. The pair had vanished while under his charge, just as had Summerlee. He was not going to lose them, too.

Challenger gazed at the hunter for a long moment. "All right. Marguerite, you remain here with Roxton. I'll go"

"No, you can't go alone," she objected.

"Yes I can. I'll move swiftly. At least it has cooled down somewhat. I'll go by the Zanga village and recruit some men to help me carry what I need. They might know something about this area as well."

"Veronica didn't," Marguerite reminded him. The plateau-bred woman had known only that water was in this region.

"True. But she may not be aware of every ancient legend. Come and help me pack a few things for my trip."

Marguerite hesitated, looked at Roxton, but his expression remained obdurate, and he was staring at the rocky hillside again where the spring's fresh water glistened in the afternoon sun. She walked over to where Challenger was beginning to sort some items. Challenger looked at her, and then back toward Roxton, who had now walked out towards the hill a short distance. The scientist spoke in a low tone.

"Marguerite, take this. These are leaves of a plant that Veronica once told me her parents used to make a tranquilizer. I believe it's the one she dosed you with one night." A smile twitched on his lips as she scowled mildly. "As soon as you get an opportunity–and when you deem it safe–slip some into Roxton's food or tea. He needs to get some rest."

She accepted the handful of leaves and slipped them into her skirt pocket, checking back to make sure that Roxton had not turned around. "Thank you, George. Are you certain you'll be safe alone?"

"Of course. There's not a raptor alive foolish enough to assault me. They recognize tough, stringy meat when they see it!" 

****

Veronica opened her eyes, and needed a moment to orient herself again. This would be the third morning she had awakened in her cave-bedroom, and she did not like it any more than she had the first two. Where was the sunshine? How could these people endure without ever seeing the sun, the moon and the stars, never feeling a fresh breeze or smelling a flower?

She knew, of course, that they endured because they did not know another lifestyle. She and Ned had attempted to explain their own sense of loss to King Carda, Princess Mella, as well as to Mella's daughter Avenna, and to Prime Minister Gando, and his assistant Norvo, all of whom comprised the ruling cabal in this strange place. They had tried to make the cave dwellers comprehend how much they missed and needed the outer world. None of the cave dwellers understood, or even tried to. 

"You will grow accustomed, and learn to love this world as we do," Carda had smiled.

Veronica threw back the warm coverings and grabbed her azure robe. She would never grow accustomed to this constant chill, she was certain. Even in the far northern lands she had read about in some of her father's books, the people at least had sun, and they had fire. Fire was unknown here. Ned had cursed that he had dropped his backpack before going to the spring, for he had had a packet of matches in that pack. 

Pulling on her boots, she patted the knife, still in its scabbard, and then placed the two smaller ones in her waist band. These people also did not seem to recognize weapons when they saw them, or else felt no threat from them. Ned still had his pistol as well. So far no overtly hostile move had been made toward them, other than being forced to remain here, but it was comforting to have the weapons, just in case.

She ran her fingers through her hair, a reminder of another lack: mirrors. She had mentioned this to Avenna and received a blank look. The closest Veronica could come to describing one was to hold out a stone tumbler of water and show Avenna how she could see her reflection in it. The princess was mostly uninterested. She had a servant who arranged her hair, or rather combed it, for everyone here simply allowed their hair to fall over their shoulders without any attempts at elaborate hairstyles such as one might expect in a royal court in the outside world.

Pushing aside the heavy drape on her doorway, Veronica stepped outside. She was not surprised to find Ned Malone leaning against the wall there. Nearby stood his personal guard, Wendo. Interestingly, Carda did not seem to feel that Veronica posed any threat, and she was pretty much left alone, but Wendo shadowed Ned constantly, even sleeping outside his door at night.

"Good morning," Ned greeted, coming toward her.

She took the hand he extended. Though they had rarely done much hand-holding on the outside, both seemed to need and want this contact here. She knew she liked the warmth of his fingers, really the only warmth either of them found in this alien world. "Time for another delicious breakfast," she commented with a wry smile, and then looked at the dour-faced young guard. "Good morning, Wendo."

"My lady."

Ned grinned at her briefly as they started down the passageway. They had talked about the oddness of being treated as members of the peerage, much as Roxton was accustomed to back in England, and perhaps as Marguerite might aspire to. Ned was addressed as "Sir Malonda," or "My lord," as she was also called "Lady Veronella." No one could be convinced otherwise.

Although Veronica was fairly certain that by now both she and Ned could find their way from their bedchambers to the dining room, Wendo always led the way. Going to any meal here was not exactly a treat looked forward to by the newcomers, for the victuals placed before them at every meal merited just one description: awful.

After a single taste, Malone had politely inquired just what the hell were they eating, what the others at the table were devouring with gusto. The food was barely more than a tasteless paste to the two outsiders. Princess Mella had happily explained that the contents of the wonderful dish came from their own "gardens," where various forms of fungi were cultivated, along with some form of grain. The grain was also the source of the material that was woven into their clothes, into the mats on the floor, the mattresses on their beds, and even to create the "fur" that trimmed the robes.

Realizing they needed nourishment, no matter how bad it tasted, the pair forced the food down. Because all of the inhabitants appeared healthy, despite their sun-deprived pallor, it seemed that the meals were indeed nourishing. After about the fourth meal, it became a little easier to consume, though Ned moaned to Veronica that he would give his life's savings for a taste of dried raptor meat.

As they entered the dining hall, with its stone table carved out of the floor, benches alongside, Carda rose and smiled happily. "Good morning!"

Veronica nodded, although she wondered how he knew it was morning. Certainly she had slept as if it had been nighttime, but with the constantly glowing walls and no way to see the world outside, time was a nonentity here. The population seemed to simply have a cycle of sleeping for seven or eight hours and being awake the remainder of the time.

They sat down and servants quickly brought platters of food. The lack of fire meant food was uncooked, a fact which added nothing to its palatability. No seasonings seemed to be available either. 

"Do you suppose I might see the gardens today?" Malone asked, nibbling on a chunk of raw mushroom.

"Quite possibly," Carda replied. "We have many important things to discuss, however." He beamed in a manner that caused the two outsiders to glance at each other. Veronica could not help but notice that Avenna did not share her grandsire's delight. She saw the young woman look off to the distance for a moment.

"What kinds of things?" Ned inquired, warily.

"Your wedding," Mella answered, smiling as broadly as her father. "There is no need to delay, is there? The sooner you are united, the sooner" Her grin widened, if that was possible.

"Yes, indeed," Carda affirmed. "We will have a grand celebration, the likes of which has not been seen in many years. Not since the happy day when Mella wed."

Now his daughter's smile faded somewhat, but not entirely. Mella had a daughter, had been married, Veronica mused. Where was her husband? She and Ned had not been able to have a lengthy conversation in private, only a few words quietly exchanged when they were seated together like this. It was difficult to confer about their captors, their surroundings, or plan an escape when they could not openly converse!

Ned cleared his throat. "You highness, I'm sure we appreciate your thoughtfulness, but Veronica, Lady Veronella and I, we"

"Are you already married?" Gando asked, brows lifting.

Before Malone could reply, Veronica spoke up. "Yes. Yes, we are." She elbowed Ned in the hopes of wiping the astonished expression from his face. "In our world, we have been united for many years."

"That's right," Ned recovered. "It is our custom for parties intended for each other from birth to marry quite young. Yes, that's right."

Carda's face fell, but only for a moment, and he brightened. "Then we will save our celebration for the birth of the heir. Why did you not tell us? There was no need to place you in separate quarters."

Before either could respond, Gando had another question. "You are wed, but you have no children?"

"Of course we do," Veronica replied brightly. "Two lovely daughters. They are with our friends. And we are quite anxious to return to them."

"Two beautiful daughters who look just like their mother," Ned chimed in. Was that Veronica's idea? To shame the king in to freeing them? "We miss them dreadfully."

A silence lay around the table for a long moment. Veronica thought the only one who appeared to be happy with the news was Avenna, although Gando did not seem to be as distressed as his king.

"I'm very sorry," Carda said finally, "but the legend must be fulfilled. The tale has been handed down for hundreds of generations. When our kingdom is in dire need of an heir, the ice will send the golden pair to us who will provide a future king, the greatest king this realm has ever known."

"Your highness," Gando said. "It is troublesome that they have produced only daughters."

Carda waved a hand. "No mind. The son will be born here. The legend foretells."

"Is there a book, or something, that tells about this legend?" Malone asked. Perhaps he could find a loophole in it.

The king shook his head. "The story is told in full on the hangings in the throne room, but unfortunately over the generations we have lost the ability to read the ancient language. However, it has been told from father to son, mother to daughter, over and over, so written words are not needed."

"What exactly is the legend?" Ned persisted.

"May I, your highness," Norvo spoke up. It might have been the first time the newcomers heard him speak, and he had a smooth, deep voice.

"Certainly," his king replied, beaming toward the two guests. "Norvo is an accomplished storyteller, as was his father and his father before him."

Norvo dipped his head toward the ruler, then began. "Eons and eons ago, the people came to live in the frozen mountains, leaving a world filled with evil and due to be destroyed. They would be safe in the mountains. The sorceress Morgaina led them, guiding the people as well as the king and his queen. Morgaina also created the gardens and helped the people carve out a city inside the mountain. Over the years, the colony thrived and grew, happy and secure, knowing they were safe from the outside world.

"In time, Morgaina grew old and ill, and she knew her time was drawing near to leave the frozen kingdom. But she would not leave her people unprotected. Morgaina cast a spell to assure that when the time of need came, when there was no heir to the throne, the magic ice would find and bring the descendants of the original king to us, and it has, Sir Malonda and the Lady Veronella. The legend tells us that the son you bear will be the greatest ruler the kingdom has ever known."

"And," Mella took up, "The legend also says that if needed, the sorceress Morgaina will also return to help us."

Carda reached over to pat Veronica's hand where it rested on the table. "I doubt we'll need Morgaina's assistance, eh?" Veronica managed a weak smile.

"Might we inspect the tapestries?" Ned requested. "I mean, if they tell of our past and future"

"Finish your meal and we'll go there," Carda assured him.

****

Veronica noticed Avenna standing back away from the group inspecting the tapestries, and since she knew she could count on Ned to explain everything to her later, she moved back to join the young woman. "Great skill was required to weave those cloths."

"So it seems. Like the reading of the language, that skill has also been lost. The weavers must concentrate on making clothing, so they forgot how to make the hangings."

"That's too bad. I presume all those symbols around the edge tell the story?" They reminded Veronica of the hieroglyphs that had edged the robe of the evil Balar, glyphs that Marguerite had translated with ease.

"Yes, but as my grandfather says, they are no longer needed. The pictures and the legends handed down tell it all."

The largest tapestry showed a man and woman, garbed in azure, and both with golden hair, walking hand and hand in a garden. Above them, apparently floating down from the sky to them, was a baby, quite obviously a male; no detail was omitted. Off to one side, in some sort of garden–though there were no real flowers–stood a woman clad in a dark red robe, with what appeared to be a black veil over her head. At each far corner was another figure, one apparently a man, the other a woman, although they seemed to be more shadow than substance.

"Who are those two supposed to be?" Veronica inquired, motioning toward the dim figures.

"Their meaning has been lost," Avenna admitted. "Mother believes they are guardians of some sort."

"Does that represent Morgaina?" Veronica asked, pointing to the veiled woman.

"Yes. She is protecting and blessing the birth. She is always with us in spirit."

"Your mother said she would be returning."

Avenna shrugged, looking away, bored with the discussion of a tale familiar to her. Veronica followed her gaze. _Aha! Why is that not surprising?_ "Avenna, where is your father?"

The princess turned back to her. "He perished some years ago. He was–an outsider."

"An outsider? What do you mean? Someone else found their way in here?"

"It happens occasionally. We don't know why. Gando's mother was also an outsider. Sometimes the newcomers die quickly. It seems they are not accustomed to our atmosphere."

_That's putting it mildly_, Veronica mused_._ "And your father? What was he like?"

A fond expression touched the young woman's face. "He was very tall, with dark wavy hair, and a wonderful smile. My mother fell in love with him, and father permitted the marriage because" Once more her gaze wandered off, her smile fading.

"Because?"

"Outsiders are considered to be of a higher social rank. A member of the royal family is not permitted to marry a commoner."

"I've heard that," Veronica murmured. "So you will marry one of the higher social ranking men yourself."

Avenna did not respond, her lips tightening in anger that also caused her dark eyes to become stones. Veronica decided to push it a little further.

"One thing that puzzles me about all this. Your grandfather and your mother are so very concerned about the lack of a male heir. Yet who's to say you won't produce a son once married?"

"I will not marry the man my grandfather has chosen for me."

"Why not? Is he so terrible?" Arranged marriages among royalty were more the norm than not, she knew.

"I will never marry," Avenna snapped, and walked away. Veronica watched her, and noticed another pair of eyes sadly watching as well.

****

Marguerite awakened and lifted up onto her elbows, peering through the darkness toward the open area beyond the trees. For a long moment, she did not see him, and a little wave of anxiety flitted through her mind, but then she spotted the shadow, leaning against the tree near the fallen log.

She climbed to her feet, shaking out her skirt, and walked across the clearing. Although he did not turn until she was very close, she knew he heard her. "You were supposed to wake me," she accused.

Roxton resumed staring out at the rocky hill. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway."

Marguerite sighed. "You should try."

"They are out there somewhere. I keep hoping"

She leaned against his arm, and it lifted to slip around her shoulders. "You keep hoping they will reappear just the same as they vanished."

"It just doesn't make sense. Of all the things we've encountered here It doesn't make sense!"

"You know, if you'd get some sleep, you might be able to think more clearly."

"I can't sleep," he said again. "Damn, I feel so helpless. If it was a raptor or cannibal or"

"When Challenger returns, he'll have some ideas."

"What could he possibly do?"

"I'm not sure. I think he intends to bring the Geiger counter for one thing."

"Geiger counter! What for?"

"I don't know!" Marguerite responded, half annoyed. "Maybe he thinks they were enveloped in some sort of radiation that evaporated them!" How was she supposed to know?

His grip on her shoulder tightened briefly. "We'll find them. One way or another, we'll find them."

Marguerite did not reply, leaning her head into his shoulder. She wanted to believe that the young couple would return, but practicality told her otherwise. Some unknown force had taken them, she was certain, but without knowing what the force was, how could they possibly combat it? Even Challenger, with all his knowledge and scientific instruments could not defeat the unknown.

****

"So we're married," Ned Malone said in a low voice, glancing back at the draped doorway of what formerly had been Veronica's quarters. "Now what?" He tried to keep his tone light.

Veronica sat down on the bed. "Now we have a chance to talk. To figure out a way to escape from this weird place."

Malone moved to sit beside her, at a discreet distance. "You're right. It's been pretty hard to talk. Any ideas?"

"Well, I think Avenna is in love with Wendo."

He looked at her. "Then why don't they get married and produce the much-wanted heir?"

"Because he's a commoner, Ned," Veronica said patiently, and he nodded in comprehension. "If we could figure out a way to convince her grandfather to let them marry"

"How? I seem to recall that in most royalty, if a member of the royal family marries a commoner, he or she loses all claim to the throne."

Veronica sighed. "I'm afraid you're right. So we need to find our way on our own."

"There must be another patch of ice somewhere in these caves. If we found it and touched it"

"But where? This place is a maze, Ned! I can find my way to the throne room now, but if I tried to go anywhere else, I'd get hopelessly lost. Everything looks the same, and the hard floor does not leave any footprints."

"I know. I wouldn't even be able to find the cave we first arrived in."

They fell silent for a long moment. Malone became conscious of the softness of the bed he was sitting on. "This grain plant they have must be amazing. It's edible, they can weave these fabulously beautiful robes, the tapestries and carpets, and they stuff the mattresses with it."

Veronica touched the soft fur that trimmed her robe. "Even this. Challenger would be fascinated."

"Mella told me they produce some of the dyes from the fungus."

Again a long silence. Veronica's fingers idly stroked the smooth fabric of her robe, and she stared at the eerily glowing walls, conscious of the young man beside her. When she had quickly seized the moment to inform the king that they were already wed, suspecting that his highness would then see fit to allow them to be together, somehow it had not occurred to her that it meant that they would be sharing the same room the same bed. Foolish, in retrospect, but she had been considering only an opportunity to talk and plan.

Malone suddenly rose from the bed and went to the door, carefully pushing aside the heavy drape and peering out. After a moment, he turned back. "Looks like they let Wendo go to his own quarters."

"Was he always outside your door?"

"Seemed like it. I don't know what they thought I was going to do. Or capable of doing." He looked around the room. "I guess I can curl up in that corner."

"No!" Veronica cried, and then felt her face warm. "I mean, it's too cold. I mean Well, suppose someone peeked in during the night. We can–the bed is big enough."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly. We're friends, aren't we?" She leaned down to pull off her boots, carefully withdrawing the knife and placing it on the stone stand beside the bed. 

Ned Malone walked around to the other side of the bed and followed suit. She was right. They were friends. It would be ridiculous for him to lay on the hard cold floor. Warm as this robe was, it was not nearly heavy enough to keep him comfortable while sleeping. And if any of the coverings from the bed were removed, Veronica would be cold. Made much more sense for them to share the warmth.

He glanced around to make sure he had not spoken those words aloud. She might misconstrue his meaning. Veronica was standing now, her back to him as she shed her long robe. Swallowing hard, Malone pulled his gaze away and concentrated on tugging off his boots. How strange! He had seen her in that brief costume every day since they had first encountered her over two years ago. Why did the glimpse of her golden skin now suddenly cause his blood to rush hotly?

Possibly, he mused, because he had not seen much of that wonderful body over the last several days, as she wore the heavy robe against the coldness of the icy caves. He needed to control his thoughts–and his body's responses–or this would never work. He sought something indifferent to discuss.

"Veronica, has anyone asked you the names of our lovely daughters?"

Veronica slipped under the heavy coverings, pulling them up to her neck. "No why?"

"Because Mella did when we were at dinner. You were talking to Norvo, I believe." Casually he lifted the blankets and laid down, drawing them, as she had, up close over his shoulders. 

"And?" Veronica turned over to her side to gaze at him. 

"I told them their names were Kate and Abigail. Named after their grandmothers."

Under the coverings, Veronica moved her hand and touched his arm. "That's very sweet." And just as quickly she pulled her hand away, far too conscious of the warmth of his skin.

"Well they were the first names that popped into my head." He had felt her touch, and felt the rush of blood in his veins. "I thought I should mention it to you in case Mella asks "

"Good idea. Thanks."

"Abigail is four, Kate is almost two."

A silence fell in the room. Besides the constant light, Malone thought, the silence during the "night" bothered him and had kept him awake. They were accustomed to the constant cacophony of sounds from the surrounding jungle, day and night, whether in the tree house or out exploring. Here, even during the day when the population was out and about, silence was the norm. At night the quiet was particularly pervasive.

Tonight, however, there was a sound, that of the soft breathing of the young woman beside him. He knew she was still facing him, and he wished he had the courage to roll over and face her! What would she do if he touched her, perhaps took her hand. What would _he_ do! The mere thought of what it could possibly lead to was both exciting and frightening. 

Veronica closed her eyes for a few moments, but opened them again, gazing at the profile of Ned Malone. He was a fine looking man, she decided. Perhaps not as tall and dashing as Lord John Roxton, but from the first moment she had met him, she had admired Ned's appearance. She liked the blue eyes and the way his short golden hair curled slightly. Over the months, she came to admire the man himself.

"Ned," she spoke softly and he turned his head toward her. "What if we never find a way out of here?"

"We will. If we can convince King Carda that we are not this Malonda and Veronella"

"I don't think we can. They are so certain. And you have to admit, it's quite a coincidence. Even the figures in the tapestry look like us."

Now, finally, he rolled onto his side so he could face her more comfortably. "In that case, we have to find the key to getting out on our own, that patch of ice. It has to be here somewhere."

"Do you suppose it's in that cave we were first in? We didn't inspect it all that closely."

"Maybe," Ned replied wryly. "But where the hell is that cave? Too bad we didn't have some breadcrumbs to leave a trail."

Veronica laughed softly. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. If we do have to stay here, I'm going to teach them something about cooking, come hell or high water!" 

Malone chuckled, and one more time they were silent. This time they were facing each other. Ned closed his eyes, but opened them almost immediately, to find her still gazing at him. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

"I was just thinking," she said in equally soft tones. "If I do have to spend the rest of my life here, I'm glad I have company. Your company."

Without a second thought he reached and drew her unprotesting body close to his own and wrapped his arms around her.

****

Marguerite first thought she would give John Roxton the concoction of tea leaves in the evening, but quickly decided against that. Selfish, she knew, but also practical. She did not wish to have to sit up all night on guard, and suspected she might not be able to do so. Exhausted as he was, John was still able to remain awake; she did not know if she could. She had risen a couple of times during the night to talk to him and try to persuade him to let her take at least a few hours. He had dozed a couple of hours around dawn, but the tortured conscience would not allow him to sleep long.

Unsure when Challenger would return with new supplies, they were rationing the dried meat and vegetables that remained. So she cut up some fresh fruit that she had found on nearby trees, and brewed up a kettle of tea, then called him over.

The slow, measured steps were another measure of his weariness. He generally walked with long confident strides. He had brought his razor, and she offered to boil water a couple of times, but he just shook his head. He was not interested in his appearance. 

"Sit down." Marguerite put some authority in her tone, half afraid he would take his food back out to the perimeter of the grove, where he had been posting himself in order to be able to watch the area of the spring. After a moment's hesitation, he obeyed, perhaps too fatigued to argue.

Marguerite handed him half of a peach-like fruit, and filled one of the tin cups with the steaming brew. After he took it from her, she poured her own, but set it aside. He sipped his liquid gingerly.

"Damn, that's strong!" He looked at her somewhat questioningly.

"I thought that was the way you liked it. Double-brewed"

"I think this is triple-brewed," he muttered, taking another sip.

"I guess perhaps it did brew a little longer than necessary. But perhaps it will help keep you awake," she said innocently, pretending to sip her own. "Mmm, I see what you mean. Too bad we don't have any milk."

Marguerite knew from personal experience that a good dose of Veronica's tea took about five minutes to act. She remembered all too well the overwhelming sense of sleepiness after drinking about half a cup of the brew Veronica so graciously served that evening. It had tasted extra strong, too, and Veronica had told her later that it needed to be mixed with regular tea and brewed longer than usual to disguise the flavor, if one was serving it to the unsuspecting.

She saw Roxton blink a couple of times, and shake his head, as though trying to dispel a sense of dizziness. Putting her cup and fruit down, she moved over alongside him and took the nearly empty cup from his hand. "Lay down, John."

He squinted at her. "Wha wha' dijou do" 

"It's for the best, John. Just lay down. I'll keep watch. I swear." 

His eyes were closed by the time his body stretched out on the blanket. Marguerite gently took the hat and placed it alongside, then touched his crisp dark hair with her fingers. "I'm sorry, love. You'll thank me later, I promise." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then got to her feet.

She had used the last of the water to make the sedating tea, and more was needed to prepare some regular tea. Gathering up the several water flasks and her rifle, she headed for the spring, casting one last glance at the sleeping man, who had not moved, his chest rising and falling with the depth of his slumber. He would be angry with her when he awakened, but she knew from experience that his wrath would be short-lived. He could not remain cross with her for long, something that pleased, amused, and annoyed her all at the same time.

The sun, although not nearly as broiling as those first few days, was still hot on her bare head. Marguerite considered going back for her hat, but decided against it. She would be just a few minutes. The flow of the spring was strong enough that the canteens would fill quickly.

She scaled the slope and put the rifle down beside her as she uncapped the first flask and held it under the cool flow. This was good water, better tasting even than what they used in the tree house. Too bad it wasn't closer to their home.

As she had on every previous trip to the spring, Marguerite glanced around, always hoping to see some sign of what happened to the young couple. It had been almost five days now, and they still had no clue as to where Veronica and Malone had gone. Whether Challenger could learn anything with his scientific expertise and equipment was doubtful. With their experience on this plateau, it seemed unlikely that science was involved. They

Marguerite frowned as she placed the filled canteen aside and reached for the next one. That looked really strange. Almost looked like No, couldn't be. Setting the empty canteen down, she got up and took a few steps downhill, to the point where the spring water drained back into the earth, where the pool of water usually formed. But it was not water now. At least not liquid water.

"Ice?" She peered at the shining patch. How could that be ice? Not with the sun beating down like it was. She reached a hand down and touched the surface. It _was_ ice! How? 

"What the hell?" Marguerite spoke the words aloud as she attempted to lift her hand and discovered that her fingertips were sticking to the patch. She pulled hard. "Ouch! Damn it!"

Down below she could make out the camp under the trees, where John Roxton stretched out on the blanket, deep in slumber. "John!" she yelled. "John! Help" 

Marguerite Krux blinked. Looked around, and blinked again. What in the name of? How did this happen? Where was she? A cave obviously. A very cold cave with no visible source of light, yet was bright enough for her to see her surroundings easily. Were the walls glowing? They almost looked like ice.

But how did she come to be here? Where was "here"? Realization rushed passed her confusion. Malone and Veronica! They must be here as well! She saw an opening that apparently led to a tunnel of some sort. Drawing her pistol, she started forward, slowly and warily.

****

"I see," Ned Malone murmured as he listened to Gando explain how the grain grew in the sandy soil of the cave, nourished primarily by water that flowed from springs emanating out of the cave walls. The prime minister also expostulated on the various ways of processing it to make textile, food, or other products so necessary to their survival in the kingdom.

Malone had accepted the invitation to accompany Gando on the tour, although he did not particularly agree with the minister's stated reasons why he should, that as the father of the heir to the throne, Sir Malonda needed to know all about the workings of the kingdom. He had a sense that Gando had some other motive to want to talk to him alone, and he decided to allow him to have that time.

"Every harvest, the workers carefully save a certain amount of seed," Gando went on, "and the new crop is planted immediately. As you might well imagine, a large quantity is required to supply our population."

"Yes, of course. Just how many people live in this kingdom?"

"Nearly five hundred souls at last count."

"Five hundred!" Ned was astonished. The most he had seen in one place was that first day when many gathered to welcome the newcomers. Surely there had not been more than a hundred.

Gando beamed and led the way toward the exit from the great cavern. "You have visited only a small part of our kingdom, Sir Malonda. You have not seen the spinners and weavers, the millers and carpenters."

"I haven't seen any children," Ned ventured.

"Oh, there are children. I'm sure that Lady Veronella has visited the schools with the Princess Mella. This is a great kingdom, wisely ruled over the centuries by the ancestors of our good King Carda. And one day by your son."

They left the growing chamber and Gando led him along a wide passageway and into a much smaller room, quickly recognizable as a pub. Only two men, clad in the garb of commoners, were occupying the several stone tables, and they quickly jumped up and lowered their heads in obeisance to the highly ranked newcomers. Gando waved a hand toward them, and as the pair regained their seats, led Ned to a corner table. A middle-aged woman quickly appeared through another doorway, carrying two cups, which Ned knew by now had been fashioned using the ubiquitous grain.

Gando picked up his cup, and held it high. "To you and the Lady Veronella, and the future heir."

Malone nodded, and tentatively sipped the dark, thick liquid. He was immediately glad he had been cautious, for the fermented beverage seared his tongue and throat. Gando took a couple of hearty swallows. "This is interesting," Ned said, hoarsely.

"One of our best vintages," Gando beamed. "Made from the grain and the fungus."

Malone pretended to take another sip, and to savor it. He was certain that the alcohol content of this brew was very high. "Tell me something."

"What is it?"

"My, er, wife and I were wondering why we are expected to present an heir to the throne. For one thing, to our knowledge, we are not related to anyone in this kingdom, especially not to the royal family. For another thing, what about Avenna? She is young"

"Young and headstrong," Gando responded, his lips pursing in disapproval. "And her mother and grandfather allow her to have her way. She has refused to marry a perfectly suitable man."

"Who would that be?" Ned half expected the prime minister to name himself.

"My assistant, Norvo. Like myself, Norvo has ties to the royal family. It would be a perfect match. The Princess Avenna, however, has foolishly lost her heart to a commoner."

"I see. And that is not?"

The prime minister shook his head firmly. "Never. If she wed Wendo, she would no longer be part of the royal family."

"Too bad."

"Foolish girl. But you see, Sir Malonda, why your position becomes so important?"

"My position?"

"As father of the heir, you will wield much influence. It will be many years, of course, before he can assume the throne and all its responsibilities."

"Mm. Yes. I see. So I would be the power behind the throne." Ned spoke this thoughtfully, as though the idea had never occurred to him. In fact he and Veronica had talked long into the night, holding onto each other, until they finally fell asleep. Talking had seemed to be an important thing to do at that time.

"Indeed, sir. And of course, for the remainder of my life, I would be available to help and advise you." Gando's smile was broad, and his gaze was directly into Malone's.

"Of course." Ned allowed himself to smile as though he was comprehending the minister's meaning, which he was. "What would happen should King Carda unfortunately pass away before the heir is produced?"

"Well," Gando looked somewhat abashed. "It does seem that I am next in line, with Norvo after me."

"You have no children?"

"Only daughters, alas. In fact, since Avenna has refused Norvo, he plans to marry my eldest."

"But I believe I was told that your mother was an outsider. Wouldn't that?"

"And you may also know that Avenna's father was an outsider. Over the centuries, for reasons we have never comprehended, outsiders have been brought into the kingdom periodically. Usually they have remained and married one of our citizens. Bringing fresh blood, so to speak."

"Suppose the outsider doesn't wish to remain?"

"I'm afraid there is no way out. At least it is not known to me."

"Marrying an outsider does not taint the royal blood?"

"On the contrary. It is an honor! Outsiders often bring knowledge we did not heretofore possess. And of course, you and the Lady Veronella, your coming was foretold."

"Seems so," Ned Malone murmured.

He repeated this conversation later to Veronica as they sat in the throne room, while various managers made progress reports to the king. They were off to one side, and since other small groups were holding conversations at the same time, no one noticed that they were talking rather than paying attention.

"Sounds like Gando plans to have a say in raising the new heir," Veronica commented.

"I got that impression. It also explains why he and Norvo looked a little upset that first day. If we hadn't shown up, they were next in line for the crown."

Veronica was silent a moment. "During my tour of the school and the weaving rooms today, I asked Mella about crime in the kingdom. She didn't even seem to know what the word meant."

"That's nice to know. Probably why they haven't worried about our weapons. Perhaps we don't need to worry about being assassinated then."

"Of course, there's always a first time. We"

The report echoed through the caverns, and every person in the throne room froze, including Ned and Veronica. They were the first ones to move, however, recognizing the sound.

"Gunshot!" Ned breathed, jumping up and heading toward the door. They could hear a commotion outside the throne room, and a familiar voice.

"Oh my God!" Veronica cried, grabbing Malone's arm and halting him just before they reached the doorway.

Wendo was one of the guards who held the struggling woman as they pushed her into the throne room. Marguerite Krux was cursing and demanding to be released. Her pistol was still in her hand, but one of the guards had hold of her arm securely, pointing the weapon into the air.

"Marguerite!" Malone yelled.

She stopped struggling immediately, staring at the pair, her eyes sweeping over their robes. "You're alive!"

King Carda came down off his throne to stand beside Ned, staring at the woman. "Morgaina! You have returned as well!"

Ned and Veronica exchanged glances. Marguerite's long dark hair had come completely unfettered during her struggle and flowed over her shoulders, resembling the veil or hood that adorned the woman portrayed in the tapestry.

Veronica spoke quickly. "Your highness, this is our friend, Marguerite. Another outsider. She"

"Morgaina!" Mella echoed, joining her father, and the word was taken up around the room.

"What's going on?" Marguerite asked. "What is this place? Who are these people? I'm freezing!"

The guards had released Marguerite but she still held the pistol. Malone stepped forward and gently took her hand, guiding the weapon back to its holster. "You don't need this," he said softly. "Take it easy. We'll explain as soon as we can."

Marguerite stared at him. "Ned, I left John sleeping! I've got to get back there!"

"Challenger"

"Challenger went back to the tree house. Roxton wouldn't leave. He was so exhausted I've got to get back there!"

King Carda had been listening to the exchange, and now he stepped forward. "Morgaina, we welcome you on your return to your kingdom. I am Carda, the descendent of your liege lord. Your presence ensures that the heir will be born and all will be well in our world."

Veronica saw how Marguerite stared at him, and as the dark haired woman's mouth started to open, Veronica moved in. "Your highness, our friend is unprotected against the cold. Being an outsider, it will bother her more than others. Will you please allow us time to have her properly robed? My husband and I will escort her."

Marguerite's eyes opened even wider at those words as the king nodded. "Of course. I'll have a woman bring a robe to your quarters. Morgaina, I look forward to a long conversation when you've rested."

Malone took one arm and Veronica the other and they steered the protesting Marguerite from the throne room. Malone glanced behind and was not surprised to see Wendo trailing behind. Although the guard had not been in evidence earlier in the day, the king very likely sent him along to protect "Morgaina."

"Veronica, what's going on here?" Marguerite demanded. She stopped pulling against their grips, but was not ready to halt her questions. "I've got to get back to–to wherever I was before. The earth. Roxton"

"There's nothing we can do right now," Veronica replied. Though not quite sure yet what Marguerite meant, her concern for Roxton was evident. 

When they reached their room, Ned carefully pulled the heavy drapes across the door, after checking to see that Wendo paused several feet down the hallway. If they kept their voices low, he probably would not be able to catch much of their conversation.

"What is going on?" Marguerite demanded once again, clutching her arms around her body. The cold was really beginning to penetrate.

"Just a minute," Veronica said, and peeked out through the drapes. A woman appeared carrying a robe. Veronica took it from her, thanked her, and sent her on her way despite her wishes to come in and serve "Morgaina."

The robe was deep red in color, and Marguerite donned it gratefully over her clothes. She ran hands over the surface. "What is this? I've never seen fabric like this before."

"We'll tell you later. How did you get here? Did you touch the ice?" Ned asked.

Marguerite nodded. "I went to fill the canteens and saw a patch of ice. Ice! The sun is still blazing hot! How could there be ice?"

"It is apparently the portal to this kingdom," Malone replied. "Seems to appear selectively."

"It certainly wasn't there after you two vanished. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was watching you, and suddenly you were gone."

"Well, as you now know, we ended up here," Veronica said. "And it seems that our presence–and yours–fulfills a legend. They think that Ned and I are the reincarnation of some ancient nobles, and that we've come back to to" She could not bring herself to say it under Marguerite's inquiring gaze.

Malone felt his face warm, but he knew it had to be said. "They believe that Veronica and I will produce the heir to the throne."

"Oh my God! You referred to Ned as your husband! Did they?"

Veronica shook her head quickly. "No. We told them we were already married–and that we have two daughters!"

Despite herself, Marguerite laughed. "Two daughters! Why? I mean, why did you tell them that?"

"In the hopes that King Carda would take pity on us and send us back."

"Didn't work, I take it. _King _Carda? Where's his jeweled crown? His scepter?"

"They don't seem to have any jewels here, Marguerite," Veronica said dryly. "At least we haven't seen any." She paused. "What did you mean about Roxton?"

Quickly Marguerite explained what had happened on the surface after the pair had disappeared. "John refused to sleep. Challenger gave me some leaves of your special tea, and I dosed John with it this morning, just before I went to the spring. He's sleeping up there, all unguarded! If a predator or cannibal or" She caught herself, aware of the note of hysteria creeping into her voice, and took a deep breath. "I've got to get back up there. I promised to stay on guard while he slept."

"There doesn't seem to be a way out of here," Malone said grimly. "Or at least none that anyone is willing to tell us about. It appears that any outsider who is transported to this kingdom remains until well, forever."

"No. There's got to be a way. And soon! Tell me what's happening here."

Marguerite sat on the bed, listening to her two companions, attempting to absorb all that they told her. When they finished their narration of what had occurred to them since they arrived, she shook her head. "There's really no way out of here?"

"Not that we've been able to discover so far. How long has it been since we disappeared?" Malone asked.

"Five days."

He nodded. "Well, at least the time frame gibes. You should know, Marguerite, that it never gets darker, lighter, or warmer here."

"And the food is absolutely atrocious," Veronica added.

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Terrific. Sounds just like the place where I want to spend the rest of my life. There's got to be a way out!"

"The good part is that since they think that Ned and I are this royal couple and you are the legendary sorceress, we'll be well treated."

"But what about when they find out I can't do any magic tricks?" She looked at the pair. "And what about this heir you're supposed to produce?"

Both looked embarrassed. "We'll deal with that when the time comes," Veronica said.

"Do you know anything more about this Morgaina?"

"Only that she created this underground kingdom for her people, saving them from some disaster on the surface. The legend seems kind of fuzzy." Ned stared at the cave wall a moment. "It's been handed down by word of mouth because the knowledge of the language on the tapestry has been lost. Marguerite!"

"What?"

Veronica caught his meaning. "You can read the tapestry!"

"What good will that do?"

Ned was about to respond, but Veronica put a hand on his arm, her finger to her lips to command silence. Releasing his arm, she stepped over to the doorway and pushed the drapery aside a crack. Down the passage a bit she saw Wendo, and in his arms, Avenna. Dropping the fabric, she turned and spoke softly. "Avenna is out there. I suspect she's come to summon us, but got sidetracked by Wendo."

"Who's Avenna and who's Wendo?" Marguerite demanded.

"The king's granddaughter and the commoner she's fallen in love with."

"Oh. The reason you are expected to produce the heir." Marguerite recollected some of their narration. "If we could convince the king that such a marriage would be advantageous"

"That's it!" Ned cried. "When you read' the tapestries, tell them that's what it says."

Marguerite looked doubtful. "What if they are fibbing when they said no one here could read it?"

"Lady Veronella!" A muffled voice sounded through the drapes. "May I come in?"

Veronica pushed the curtains aside. "Come in, princess. You have not met the newest arrival. Marguerite, this is the Princess Avenna."

The newcomer quickly grasped Marguerite's hand and bent over it. "Morgaina! We have long awaited your coming."

"So I've heard," Marguerite murmured. Louder, she said, "Thank you for your welcome."

"My grandfather, King Carda, has sent me to bring you to the dining hall, where a wonderful feast will be served in your honor."

Behind Avenna both Veronica and Malone made faces to express their opinions of this "wonderful feast." Marguerite kept her face sober. "Thank you very much. I am honored." She knew innately that regardless of what occurred later, she must play her part as long as possible. Perhaps if the king truly believed she was this sorceress and trusted her, he would reveal, intentionally or not, the way out of this strange place. As they followed Avenna and Wendo down the corridor, Marguerite forced herself not to think of the man she had left at the mercy of the elements. 

****

John Roxton opened his eyes and stared up into the canopy of the trees above him, catching glimpses of blue sky as the breeze stirred the leaves. Well, Marguerite had been right. He certainly felt better. The angle of the sun told him it was mid afternoon, so he had slept a good eight or nine hours. He had known he needed rest, but could not bring himself to sleep for any length of time, fearing he might miss the opportunity to rescue Malone and Veronica. Whether she had been right or not, he was still going to give her a hard time about it.

He sat up, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. His eyes fell on the campfire, or what had been the campfire. No flames were evident. It had burned out. What the hell? Marguerite knew better than that! Scrambling to his feet, he stared around, seeing nothing and no one.

"Marguerite!" Had she just gone off into the bushes for personal reasons? "Marguerite!"

Forcing himself to inspect the area calmly, the next thing he noticed was her hat laying on the ground next to the dying fire, and the absence of her rifle and the canteens. Quickly his eyes jerked up toward the spring. Nothing and no one was in sight.

Grabbing his own rifle, he sprinted out into the sunlight, continuing to yell her name. "Marguerite! Marguerite! Where the hell are you?" Upon gaining the spring, he stopped short. The canteens were on the ground alongside the spring with Marguerite's rifle. His eyes scanned the surrounding ground. No sign was evident, the same as when Malone and Veronica vanished. "Marguerite!"

George Challenger heard the shouts, and even from a distance as the group trudged through the jungle, he could discern the frantic nature of the calls. He glanced at the petite woman walking alongside him. "That sounds like Roxton."

Assai nodded. "And something is wrong. We must hurry. Jarl!"

"Go ahead," her husband called. He and three other men were carrying some of the equipment the scientist had fetched from the tree house. "We'll follow."

Challenger looked again at Assai, who picked up her pace into a trot. Being five months pregnant had not kept her in her village, nor was it going to slow her down when her best friend's safety was involved. He quickened his own stride to keep up with her.

They found Roxton at the spring, and the hunter quickly told them what had happened. "You gave her the tea!" he finished, glaring at Challenger.

"Yes, I did. You needed it. We'll find them, Roxton. First thing I want to do is check for radiation."

"What the hell good will that do?"

"I have no idea. We have to exhaust all possibilities. Assai, tell him about your uncle."

Roxton looked at the dark-complexioned young woman. "Your uncle?"

"This is a mysterious place," Assai replied. "Legends about people disappearing here go back hundreds of years. There's a story of a chieftain who came to our village many years ago, seeking his daughter, who disappeared here. And before I was born, my mother's brother was hunting in this area with some companions. He came up to this spring while they waited below. They said he bent down and reached his fingers in to the water, then vanished before their eyes."

"Just like Malone and Veronica," Roxton said. "That's what Marguerite said happened to them. But how?" He stared down at the clear pool of spring water at his feet, then knelt down and dipped his hand into the cool liquid. 

"Roxton!" Challenger cried in alarm, and then relaxed as his friend remained in sight. 

"There's a bottom," John Roxton said, both disappointment and bafflement in his face and voice. The pool was six or seven inches deep, barely reaching Roxton's wrist when he touched the bottom with the tips of his fingers. The bed of the spring was hard rock and solid. No hole for anyone to fall through, even if it had been wide enough for a human form. He got to his feet. "What now?"

"I'll do some tests," Challenger replied, but his expression told it all. He did not really have much hope that a Geiger counter and chemical tests were going to explain this mystery.

****

In the massive dining hall, Marguerite was placed at the right of King Carda, with Gando alongside her. She had been introduced to dozens of dignitaries, all clad in the colorful robes which Veronica had pointed out to her meant they were members of the ruling class. Marguerite could scarcely believe what else they had informed her, that the source of the fabric was a coarse grain that also served as a foodstuff and had seemingly dozens of other purposes. It occurred to her to wonder what such a miraculous plant–and the processes that were used–would be worth in the outside world. However, returning to that outside world seemed much more important at the moment, with or without that information.

The food was as horrid as she had been warned, but Marguerite did her best to put on a show of enjoyment, though she could not emulate the gusto with which the other guests devoured the various dishes that were placed before them. To her they all tasted the same–awful–but she heard Gando exclaim to Princess Mella about the excellent flavor of one item, saying how he preferred it over another.

Periodically Carda or Gando lifted their goblets in a toast to all three newcomers, and since Ned had warned both her and Veronica of the possible potency of the drink, both women barely sipped it. One sip was all Marguerite needed to confirm Malone's supposition. She watched the other guests gulp theirs down and have the glasses refilled; perhaps drinking the stuff made the food taste better!

"I cannot say enough how honored we are to have your presence, Morgaina," the king enthused. "When Sir Malonda and Lady Veronella arrived, we felt our kingdom might be saved. But now that you have come, we know it will be so. You will assure the birth of the heir and the health and prosperity of our people."

"I'll do my best," Marguerite replied with her most favorable smile. The warmth of his gaze suddenly reminded her of another king, the young Gawain, who had become enamored of her and wished to take her as his bride. Apparently King Carda was a widower. Was he considering how to increase his regal power by uniting with the legendary sorceress?

She lowered her gaze, recalling how in that other event, John Roxton had saved her from the forced marriage. His arrival here was most unlikely, if indeed he was still alive. She knew she had spent several hours wandering in the passageways of the underground kingdom, and that at least eight hours had elapsed since she put her fingers to the strange ice. Had Challenger arrived to wake Roxton? Or had a raptor fortuitously happened upon his next meal

"My lady!" Gando leaned toward her. "Are you well?"

Marguerite realized she had been frowning deeply, and she quickly brightened. "Just weary. It has been an eventful day." Across the way, Veronica caught her eye. "However, I would very much like to see the famous tapestry my friends have told me about, the one which foretold our coming."

Gando patted her hand. "Time enough for that tomorrow. Your highness?"

Carda quickly nodded. "Of course. I beg your pardon, my lady. We should have waited until another day to have this welcoming feast. We were so excited to have your presence, we did not consider the great journey you have endured. Avenna, perhaps you would see Morgaina to her room. We knew you would want to be near Sir Malonda and Lady Veronella." The king beamed at Marguerite.

"That's so considerate of you," Marguerite returned, rising.

Malone and Veronica got to their feet as well. "Your highness," Malone said, "If you don't mind, we would like to spend time with our friend. It has been a long time since we last saw her."

"Of course, of course!" Gando beamed. "Have a fine rest, Morgaina. Tomorrow you can become reacquainted with the kingdom you created."

Again Wendo trailed the group as Avenna guided them through the passages. "Do you really need a guide to your rooms?" Marguerite whispered.

Veronica shook her head. "That's one route we've managed to memorize. It's just a courtesy, but I'm glad Carda sent Avenna. I want to talk to her more."

Marguerite's quarters were almost directly across the passageway from that of Malone and Veronica. Avenna stepped inside, and the three outsiders followed. With a duck of her head, the princess turned to go, but Veronica put a hand on her arm.

"Avenna, will you stay with us a moment?"

The princess's eyes widened momentarily. "Of course, Lady Veronella. How can I be of service?"

Ned stepped to the doorway and pushed the curtain aside. "Wendo, come in here."

The young guard hesitated, but the obedience to authority instilled in him caused him to step inside. He and the princess avoided each other's gazes studiously.

Veronica began it. "Avenna, I understand that you and Wendo are in love."

"Oh, no, my lady!" Wendo began to protest, his face flushing.

"Wendo is a commoner," Avenna said, eyes downcast.

"Social status has not always stood in the way of love," Marguerite commented. "If Wendo was not a commoner, would you marry him?"

The princess lifted her head, and tears sparkled in her eyes. "Yes."

"Avenna!" Wendo's voice held alarm. "You mustn't!"

"Are you saying you're not in love with her?" Ned inquired.

With four pairs of eyes on his face, including the moist ones of his beloved, the guard's shoulder sagged. "I love her with all my heart. But it is useless."

"Tell me, both of you," Veronica said. "Have you ever heard that it is possible for outsiders to leave the icy kingdom?"

Wendo and Avenna exchanged a glance, and the princess spoke. "There is a tale told of a man, many centuries ago, who was able to leave. It's said that the tapestry holds the secret."

"Ah!" Marguerite's eyes lit up. "Then let's go see it."

"But no one can read it," Wendo pointed out. "Also, no one is allowed in the throne room during the sleeping time. There are guards."

"And only one entrance," Ned pointed out, sourly. "I don't think we're going to be able to get in there until tomorrow."

Marguerite wrapped her arms around her body and took a deep breath. "I don't suppose it will make a difference at this point. John will be awake by now if"

Veronica touched the older woman's shoulder lightly. "He'll be all right, Marguerite. You know Roxton is indestructible."

Marguerite's smile was forced. She did not comment, afraid that her voice would not be too steady after the rare gesture of solicitude. Veronica was addressing the young couple again.

"Tomorrow Morgaina will attempt to read the tapestry's secrets. Both of you should be present when she does. But don't tell anyone about this."

Avenna was confused, but the shine in her eyes was from hope now. With words of gratitude, she and Wendo departed. 

Marguerite sat down on the bed. "What if the tapestry does not yield the secret of escape?"

"Then we're stuck," Malone replied. "I sure wish we could find our way back to the cave where we arrived."

"Don't look at me," Marguerite retorted. "As soon as I'd made a couple of turns I was completely lost–and I didn't have any breadcrumbs to scatter!"

Malone smiled briefly as he realized she had echoed his complaint of a few days ago. "Just remember, whatever you read on the tapestry, make sure you translate' it to mean that Avenna should be allowed to marry Wendo with no consequences, and that we should be allowed to leave."

Marguerite waved a hand. "Don't worry. I'm a pretty good storyteller." She bit back a smile as she saw Malone and Veronica exchange a glance. Their thoughts were transparent. And probably correct. Over her lifetime, her ability to tell "stories" had saved Marguerite Krux from many a tight spot. Would it be enough this time?

Back in their own room, Malone tugged off his boots. "Marguerite is pretty worried about Roxton."

Veronica nodded, slipping out of her robe. "I can understand why. That tea is pretty potent. He will have slept soundly, especially considering how exhausted he must have been. If a raptor wandered by" Her voice caught, and she forced away the picture that came to mind. Kicking off her boots, she slid under the coverings, and in a moment Ned did the same.

"Roxton will be all right." Malone tried to sound very reassuring, but was aware that of all people, Veronica knew the dangers of the plateau, even when awake and highly alert. He decided to change the subject. "Do you think this plan will work tomorrow?"

She turned on her side to face him, one arm up under her head. "The part about allowing Avenna and Wendo to marry, perhaps. Marguerite has to make them believe that's what she is actually reading."

"They should not have any reason to doubt Morgaina." Now Malone rolled to face her, disliking the unwillingness he felt, knowing why he was reluctant. Last night he had slept with her in his arms, and he had managed to do only that. He did not know if he could continue to restrain himself, and above all he did not want to damage their relationship, especially since they had just begun to rebuild it. Each had recently left former loves behind.

Veronica smiled a little. "You know, it's possible that once the way is cleared for Avenna to marry Wendo, she may not wish to do it."

"Forbidden fruit, you mean?"

"Yeah. Although I think I see real love in their eyes."

"What does that look like?"

"Love?"

"Yeah."

She was silent a moment. "I think it has all sorts of looks. I see it in Roxton's eyes, often, when he's looking at Marguerite. And I think I see it in hers–when she thinks he's not looking."

"They're quite a pair. They started battling right from the beginning, the very first night we all got together to discuss the expedition. God, Marguerite even took a shot at him that night!" Malone chuckled with the memory of Roxton's startled expression, Marguerite's smugness.

"I remember Summerlee telling me about that. Do you know what he also said?" Veronica lifted up on her elbow now.

"What was that?"

"He said that was when he knew they were meant for each other. The constant bickering was a defensive mechanism, he said. Neither one was willing to give an inch, to make the first move."

"But they did."

"Yes. It seemed to happen in that strange English village, didn't it? Everything was changed after that. They still bicker but. It's changed."

"We don't bicker," Ned said quietly.

Veronica placed her head down on the pillow again. "There's all kinds of looks." She smiled.

Malone lifted a hand out from under the coverings and touched her cheek. "I don't want to bicker with you."

She reached and caught his hand in her own, just holding it between them. "I was only twelve when I made the pledge with Danu. He was so sweet. And I was lonely."

"Of course you were." Ned moved his hand so that it wrapped around hers more tightly. She had not talked about her childhood sweetheart since that night on the balcony, after Danu's death.

"Over the years, I felt I felt as though I was honor-bound to keep that pledge. Danu didn't visit often, but when he did, he always reminded me, told me he intended to keep it. No matter what else–no matter how my feelings changed, I knew I owed it to Danu to at least try to keep the pledge. Unless he released me."

"And it seemed he wasn't about to do that."

"No. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't become infected. Butthat's what did happen. I kept my part of the bargain. Now it's over."

"Just like me and Gladys. That story dream I had was what really convinced me, but I think I knew all along it wasn't real. She didn't accept my proposal, you know. She said she would consider it, after I returned, rich and famous." He smiled ruefully. "That should have told me something."

"Does she really look like what we saw in the dream?"

"Yes."

"A very beautiful woman. No wonder you you were enamored."

Ned chuckled softly. "You know, I could picture myself entering the theater or the opera house, or some grand soiree, with Gladys on my arm. Quite a coup for a kid from the streets of New York. Her father is the owner of my paper, you know."

"Well, I'm sure that when you do return, rich and famous, she'll reconsider."

"Veronica, I don't have any interest in Gladys anymore. In fact, I think she would bore me silly. I much prefer a jungle princess.'"

She could not help but giggle a little, scooting toward him. "I should blacken your eye for reminding me of that."

"You are my princess," he said softly, leaning forward to touch his lips to hers. 

Veronica slipped her hand from his and wrapped it around his neck, holding him to her. She felt the passion of the kiss growing, something they had never done before, and she did not want it to end.

****

"Roxton," Assai spoke softly, so as not to startle the hunter. "Challenger sent this cup of tea."

John Roxton twisted around on the log where he was sitting, and smiled at the petite woman. "Thank you."

Assai sat alongside him and gazed toward the moonlit spring. "There is another legend," she said softly. "It's said that many, many generations ago, a man returned after disappearing at the spring."

"Did he say where he had been?"

The native woman smiled slightly. "It's difficult to say now. You know how these stories become after hundreds of tellings. My grandmother's version was that he told of a massive cave made of ice, of people who lived in this cave and never saw the sunlight."

Roxton remembered the story Challenger, Malone, and Marguerite had related a year or so ago when they were caught in a cave-in. But those people were not living in caves of ice; rather their home was under a volcano. "How did he escape?"

Assai shook her head. "I don't know. That wasn't part of the legend. Just that he miraculously reappeared." She put her hand on his arm. "Miracles do happen, Lord Roxton."

He smiled and patted her hand. "I know. I haven't given up hope. Not completely. You'd better get some rest, Assai. It's late."

She laughed, getting to her feet. "You men worry so much! Jarl will tell you that I can still beat him in a foot race, even with this!" She patted her stomach.

"I have no doubt."

Assai's smile faded. "They'll be back. I know it. Somehow, they'll find a way back."

"Thank you, Assai."

Roxton watched her return to the campfire, then heaved a great sigh, turning his gaze back to the spring. He wanted to believe. He wanted desperately to believe. He had seen too much of life itself to hold the faith Assai asserted, yet he had also lived on this blasted plateau for over two years. They had witnessed too many unexplained, and often unexplainable, things to doubt too strongly. Yet

The thought of never seeing Marguerite Krux again cut into his soul like a red-hot blade. The understanding that they had reached over the last few months held so many promises. He had wanted so many times to hold her, to pour out his feelings, yet he also knew that he still needed to wait for the right moment. She was skittish yet, still not quite ready to trust, even him. 

Now he wished he had disregarded all those warning signals and simply told her how much he loved her, and damned the consequences. So many times his body had ached with desire for her, and at times he thought he saw his needs reflected in her eyes. He had never had the courage to take the next step, fearing he was misreading her, terrified that she would lash out at him, and he would lose everything. Now, when it was too late

He sipped his tea, and realized that for the rest of his life, every time he partook of tea, he was going to be reminded of his last recollections of her, of her lips brushing his forehead as he drifted off into the drugged slumber. He still wondered whether he had actually heard her call him "love," or if that had been a later drug-induced dream.

Hearing a footfall behind him, he glanced around. Challenger joined him on the log, holding his own cup of brew. "It was all a ridiculous failure," the scientist said in a tone as bitter as Roxton could remember hearing from the self-confident man.

"Worth a try though," Roxton assured him, although he himself had not held out any hope as Challenger roamed the area with his homemade Geiger counter, and then later tested the water and surrounding rocks with various chemicals.

"We've come up against something an enemy we cannot defeat," Challenger continued slowly, in that same harsh, self-recriminating voice. "All of them. Gone."

John Roxton wanted to deny it. He wanted to give encouragement and assurance to his friend. Yet the words were not there, and he could not force out any platitudes. Challenger was merely echoing his own sentiments. So they sat there in silence, willing the moonlit spring to give them some answer, anything to ease the pain they were sharing. The water did not speak.

****

"I trust you slept well, Morgaina," Gando beamed, bowing over Marguerite's hand as the trio entered the dining hall.

"I had a most pleasant night," Marguerite lied, smiling and making sure the smile reached her eyes even in its insincerity. How could anyone sleep in this weird place, with the glowing walls that never afforded any darkness, without the fresh scent of the breeze, without the comforting–if sometimes strident–sounds of the nocturnal creatures? How could they not look forward to a bright, new day, to the sun, the blue sky, and white clouds scudding across the sky? 

Although Marguerite Krux had never particularly considered herself a nature lover, she became aware that she missed these occurrences that she had always taken for granted. Even rain would be welcome! She had been in this underground world for less than twenty-four hours, and already she was homesick. How had Ned and Veronica withstood it for almost a week? Of course, she mused, glancing back at the pair following her, hand in hand, they had had each other. 

Mella approached to lead Marguerite to the table, explaining that her father had been called to take care of some business in the weaving rooms, but would join them later. "He is so delighted that you have seen fit to join us again, Morgaina."

Retaining the bright smile, Marguerite accompanied the princess, nodding to people she recognized by face but not by name from the previous day. Avenna was having a difficult time trying to appear relaxed and natural, and she could not refrain from glancing toward the entrance, where Wendo had paused after escorting the illustrious newcomers to the dining all. But he could not remain present, and slipped out the door.

The breakfast beverage was a type of cold tea, brewed from the multi-functional grain. Veronica had mentioned that it was the most palatable of any food or drink they had thus far sampled, and after sipping it, Marguerite had to agree. Somewhere between coffee and tea in taste, she decided, and she hoped it contained some of the restorative powers of those two beverages. She doubted she had slept more than two or three hours, because every time she drifted off, the thoughts she kept forcing from her mind while awake stole from her subconscious. She would see John Roxton as she left him, deeply slumbering, and she would see voracious raptors pouncing on him, or cannibals or headhunters creeping toward him

She tried to tell herself that it was no use to worry now. Either he had fallen prey to some animal or savage, or he was alive. It was as simple as that. The only thing she could do now was to find a way to escape from this underground civilization, to get back to the daylight, the sunshine, and God willing, John Roxton's arms.

Gando was in the midst of a long exposition of how he had always known that the kingdom would be saved, the royal lineage intact, because the legend said that Morgaina had promised it so. Marguerite listened, and across the way caught Malone's eye. Yesterday Gando had been hinting that he was ready to take control of the kingdom, through Sir Malonda and the forthcoming heir, with no concern for the current royal pedigree. Malone bit back a smile and concentrated on chewing and swallowing the unholy combination that was on his plate.

When King Carda entered the room, everyone rose until he seated himself. He greeted Marguerite heartily and apologized for his tardiness. 

"I hope it was nothing serious," Marguerite smiled. Mella's description of the king having to take care of some problem with the weavers seemed most unusual. Why had not the prime minister been dispatched? Of course, from what she could discern, this kingdom did not operate exactly like the royal houses of Europe.

"Oh, no, not serious at all. I was arranging for the manager of the weaving room to allow the workers to come to the throne room later to meet you. To be present when you observe the tapestry that was created to tell your story. It is a special moment for all of us."

_I hope so!_ Marguerite did not respond immediately. She had been formulating the story she planned to "read" throughout the night, the story that would convince Carda and his people that a marriage between his granddaughter and the guard was blessed by the sorceress, and foretold long ago. If Carda accepted it, that would at least free Malone and Veronica from their masquerade, presuming, of course, they wanted to be free of that particular aspect of the whole business.

At one point in the night Marguerite thought about creeping across the corridor to discuss the planned tale with the pair, since they were far more familiar with this civilization than she. But two things stopped her. First, when she pushed her draperies aside, she found a guard–not Wendo this time–dozing outside her door. Beyond that, she hesitated to interrupt the "newlyweds," just in case they were indeed behaving like newlyweds!

She had observed them this morning, trying to discern if indeed anything was occurring. She thought she saw a new shyness, at least on Veronica's part. Marguerite had no real clue about what that could mean. She tried to remember how she felt after her wedding night, but that had been so long ago, and with so much pain and bitterness occurring since, it was almost as though it had occurred to another woman.

Because Carda had come to the meal late, everything was delayed while he finished. Occasionally Marguerite noticed sounds beyond the curtained door, and decided that the other citizens were probably making their way to the throne room, ready for the grand celebration. She found her own nerves were tightening, and glances exchanged with Malone and Veronica revealed they too were experiencing uneasiness. She knew that like her, they were more worried whether or not the tapestry was going to show them the way home than about their living conditions here. They did not want to live out their lives, together or alone, in this underground realm.

Carda finally signaled that he was ready by rising from his chair. Veronica reached for Ned's hand as they followed the monarch from the dining hall. She had done that a lot lately, she realized, as his hand closed around her. If she did not take his hand, he took hers. The measure of comfort and encouragement exchanged with this touching was immense, and especially after last night

Veronica bit back a smile as she remembered last night, a night unlike any she had experienced in her life. What was going to come of it, she did not know, but she was glad it had happened. Her relationship with Ned Malone had taken a giant step, and she knew she did not wish it to backslide, as had occurred previously when her guilt about her pact with Danu caused her to start pushing him away. Danu was far in her past now, just as Gladys was a distant memory for Ned. They had only the future to build on now.

Citizens of the icy kingdom were lined on both sides of the wide corridor as they approached the throne room, even the rarely seen children, twenty or thirty of them. Mella had told Veronica that one reason the children were so closely controlled was because of the mazelike structure of the kingdom. While adults could find their way around, children became lost easily, and there were even some areas where no one currently resided where the young ones could become stranded and frightened. It was best to keep them all in one place while their parents worked in the grain or fungus growing areas, or in the rooms that processed those materials.

Marguerite was the focus of attention, and murmurs of awe were audible as she passed, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, beautiful chin held high and proud. She was playing her part, Veronica decided, and she suspected it was not a difficult part to play. Whatever else Marguerite might be–and Veronica still was unsure just what the whole story was–she had a distinct aura about her. Undoubtedly, back in Europe or wherever she traveled, Marguerite Krux gained attention simply by being.

Carda led them into the empty throne room, and Veronica was not particularly surprised to see that all of the large tapestries had been covered with draperies. The king had a sense of the dramatic, it seemed. The size of the room allowed everyone to gather, albeit they were somewhat tightly packed. Small children were lifted up onto shoulders, not only to allow them to see what was going to happen in this historic moment, but to prevent them from being trampled.

When Gando held up a hand, all conversation ceased. Carda stepped around in front of Marguerite and faced her, thus facing his audience as well, since her back was to the crowd. "Morgaina, when you left us so many years ago, you promised to return in our time of need, and you have kept your promise. You sent Sir Malonda and the Lady Veronella to us to save our kingdom. Now you are here, and we wish to honor you, to display to you the wonderful art that was created in reverence to your memory."

Marguerite inclined her head gracefully. "I am indeed honored, your highness. And anxious to see the tapestry."

Veronica saw the expression on Carda's face. Like many another man, he was entranced by the gray-eyed beauty, and eager to please her. With a low bow, he turned and waved an arm. The men standing alongside the tapestries pulled on cords, and the coverings fell away. Marguerite stared at the tableau, and Veronica caught her breath. Was she going to be able to carry this off? Very likely Marguerite could read what was actually written around the borders of the hangings. Would that disturb whatever story she had arranged to tell?

The way Malone's fingers tightened on hers revealed that he was having similar thoughts. Marguerite was standing very still, gazing at the pictures, the strange markings, only a slight movement of her head indicating that she was reading them. The hush in the cavernous room was intense, despite the several hundred persons in attendance. Even the children were quiet.

Perhaps unnerved by the silence, and Carda stepped toward Marguerite. "My lady"

"In the unknown years to come," Marguerite began, her voice somewhat strained, Veronica thought. "In the future that holds the secrets, the secrets that will be revealed only by time, the day will arrive when the realm could be toppled. But I, Morgaina, who led my people from the dangers of the outer world, who created this inner world where they might survive generation after peaceful generation, I will not desert you. Over the eons, I will send people from the outside to freshen the blood, to ensure the health of succeeding generations. And when the desperate time arises, I will send to you again the progenitors of the royal line, the beloved Malonda and Veronella, who will know the path to rescue of the kingdom."

Veronica glanced at Malone, and his eyes widened slightly in agreement. They had not expected such an elaborate tale. It almost seemed as though Marguerite was reading the story verbatim from the tapestry. The woman stood very still, her robed arms held slightly away from her sides as she gazed at the woven portrait. Gando and the several other nobles who were off to one side were transfixed, their eyes never leaving Marguerite.

"And when the time comes, I also will return to ensure that the rightness of it all is understood and followed. Malonda and Veronella will show all the essence of true love, and will know true love. They will display their knowledge and the importance of it to the royal family, and make them see why true love will sustain the kingdom. Love does not know boundaries, and those boundaries may be crossed."

Veronica heard a slight sound and looked toward Avenna, standing behind her mother. The young woman had lifted her hands to her face as the import of "Morgaina's" words began to reach her. Carda was also hearing them, and he was frowning; Gando was absolutely scowling.

"The king must listen to the words of Malonda and Veronella, and understand that the time has come for a new line, new blood. The new blood will infuse the heir with great strength and integrity, and he will lead the people of the kingdom for many years, to be known in the eons to come as the founder of a new prosperity.

"I, Morgaina, cannot remain with you. Nor can Malonda and Veronella. But all of us will return one more time, any time we are needed. Heed the words of Malonda and Veronella."

The silence was heavy as Marguerite ceased speaking. Several long second ensued, until finally Veronica reached over and touched Marguerite's arm. "Is that all?"

Marguerite started slightly, then looked around, frowning. "What?"

"Is that all?" Veronica lowered her voice, though she knew that in the silence secrecy was practically impossible. "Isn't there anything about a way out?"

Marguerite's frown deepened, and she looked back towards the tapestry. "Yes, of course"

"Morgaina," Carda stepped up to her. "Explain what this means. What are we to do?"

"What?" Marguerite asked again.

Malone moved over alongside Marguerite, who seemed genuinely confused, although it could well have been an act, he realized. "Your highness, the words of the prophecy stated that the Lady Veronella and I will be able to show you the proper path. Perhaps you noticed that the words of the legend do not mention that we ourselves are to produce the heir, but someone else. Another couple who know true love."

Carda nodded. "Yes, that seems so. But who?"

"Morgaina said love knows no boundaries, and that boundaries must be crossed. I believe she means the boundaries of social structure, sire. Your granddaughter and the guard Wendo are deeply in love. He is a strong, intelligent young man who is worthy of a princess."

Carda looked back toward Avenna, who now had tears streaming down her pale cheeks. He held out his hand and his granddaughter came to take it. "Is this true, Avenna? Is your love for Wendo that strong?"

"You know it is, grandfather. Didn't I refuse to marry any other man?"

Carda smiled. "Yes, you did. Lady Veronella, do you agree with your husband's views?"

"I do, your highness," Veronica smiled. "I believe that Morgaina is saying that over time, the royal line has become weakened because of the narrow strictures of who can marry whom. The blood of a strong man like Wendo will bring prosperity and strength to the royal family. He is an honorable young man who will be a credit to the family."

Now the king turned to Marguerite, who had been watching and listening with a slight frown creasing her forehead. "Morgaina, you are the wise one who constructed this kingdom for us, and set us on the right path in the beginning. How can we refuse to continue to follow the path you have laid before us?"

Marguerite smiled weakly. "How indeed?"

"Wendo!" Carda cried. "Wendo! Come forward!"

The young guard hurried across the room and bowed low before the king, barely able to suppress the grin on his face. "Your highness."

"We happily yield to the wisdom of our savior, Morgaina," Carda announced, taking his granddaughter's hand in one of his own, and reaching out to grasp Wendo's in the other, and drew the two together. "My people, there will be a grand wedding soon! Join me in congratulating the Princess Avenna and her consort!"

The room exploded in shouts of congratulations. Veronica caught Marguerite's arm, and pulled her aside, Malone following. "What does it say about the way out?" she demanded.

"It says we must return to the room where we first appeared here, and find the ice."

"Find the ice!" Malone echoed in dismay. "The walls were covered with ice."

"Well, then," Veronica announced, "We'll touch every square inch until we find the right patch. You did a wonderful job with that story, Marguerite. What does the tapestry really say?"

"What? I'm not sure what's going on here. Why didn't Carda wait for me to tell the story I made up?"

"But you read it!" Malone informed her. "Didn't you?"

"You read something," Veronica informed the confused woman. "Don't you remember?"

Marguerite shook her head. "All I remember is the coverings being removed, and then all of a sudden everyone is celebrating."

"Oh boy," Ned breathed. "This is getting a little too strange."

"Never mind," Veronica said. "Now we've got to convince Carda to take us to that cave. We'll never find it otherwise."

****

In the twilight, Challenger put his hand on his friend's arm. "John, we can't stay here forever. It's time to go back to the tree house."

Roxton dropped his head. He wanted to deny the truth of it, but could not. The only food they had now was what he or the Zanga men managed to forage or kill. Assai was showing signs of weariness, though she put on a brave front and refused to admit it. Roxton knew he could never forgive himself if anything happened to her or her child. They had exhausted all possibilities.

"In the morning," he said in a low, dull voice. "We'll start back."

"It's the best thing," Challenger said encouragingly. "We'll get some rest, refit our supplies, and come back again. We aren't giving up. Not by a long shot."

John Roxton managed a weak smile. He wanted to express his gratitude to his friend, but also knew he had better not try to speak at the moment. Better wait until he had better control of his emotions. He knew as well that he would not remain at the tree house any longer than it took to refill his pack. He would return to this spot, and live here, as long as it took. He would

Assai's shriek spun both men around. Roxton sought the young woman, and saw her running from where she had been sitting on the log at the edge of the grove, racing toward the hill. Then he raised his own gaze, and froze.

Challenger grabbed his arm again, the grip stronger, claw-like. "Roxton!"

"Oh my God! My God!" John Roxton shook free and took off in a sprint, never taking his eyes from the area of the spring, where three forms had appeared in the growing gloom.

Marguerite met him halfway down the slope, throwing her arms around him. "You're safe!" she cried. "Thank heavens, you're safe!"

A little startled by her words, he hugged her close and then looked down at her. "You were worried about _me_?"

"I left you sleeping! I was afraid someone something" Were those tears on her cheeks, glistening in the faint light from the quarter moon? Roxton leaned and kissed her mouth softly, a little afraid of his own emotions at this moment. He drew back.

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded. "What happened?" 

Further up the hill, Assai and Challenger, along with the other Zanga, were posing the same questions among hugs and handshakes. Keeping Marguerite's hand in his, Roxton went to greet the other pair, and they all had to be satisfied when Malone told them that as soon as they caught their breaths, they would relate the whole story.

A while later, gathered around a good campfire, Ned Malone related most of their adventure, with Veronica, and sometimes Marguerite interjecting a word here and there. The others listened silently, wanting to disbelieve the bizarre tale, but unable. Not only had the trio disappeared completely, but they all knew of the inexplicable events that could occur on this inexplicable place.

"Incredible," Challenger murmured as Ned fell silent after explaining how they had remained in the icy kingdom to witness the wedding of the princess and her commoner sweetheart, and then had convinced the king to show them the way back to the entrance cave. Carda had tried his best to persuade them to say, but finally realized that the legendary trio had been there only temporarily, that they must return to another world.

"And I still don't remember reading that tapestry," Marguerite said, leaning back against the chest of the man who's arms were securely around her.

"I believe you truly became Morgaina for a few moments," Veronica said. "I am not sure why, since you would have been able to read the story anyway."

"But that wasn't the true tale on the tapestry."

"What?" Malone and Veronica spoke together.

"What did it say?" Veronica asked.

"Mostly information about grain, how to grow it, and how to use it to make food, clothing, and other necessities."

"But you were going to relate a similar tale to get the young couple together anyway," Challenger put in.

"Yes. But my story was different. I was planning to say that Malone and Veronica had come to the kingdom with the power to find the man and woman who would produce the heir, that they–being spirits, so to speak–could not actually have the child themselves. And I was going to say that I, as Morgaina, would be able to confirm that they had made the right choice. None of this nonsense about true love!"

"Nonsense?" Roxton whispered in her ear.

"Did you hear anything about my uncle?" Assai asked.

Veronica took her friend's hand. "This is the good part. Although he died some years ago, Assai, he did live a very happy life in the kingdom. He fell and love and married. He was Avenna's father!"

"Really! You mean Avenna is my kin?"

"Your cousin," Malone confirmed. 

Assai sighed. "I wish I could see her."

"Tell me about this grain," Challenger insisted. "I don't suppose any of you managed to bring a sample."

"I wanted to," Marguerite said. "Believe me, I wanted to!"

"I'll bet you did." Roxton's arms tightened playfully.

"I was thinking about all the people it could feed," Marguerite replied blithely.

"Um-hmm."

Veronica got to her feet. "You know what I want to do? I want to go look at the stars. I haven't seen them in so long."

Malone rose also. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

"So," Challenger said softly as the pair strolled off toward the hillside and out from under the canopy of trees, "they were man and wife in this icy kingdom."

"So I was told," Marguerite confirmed.

"Maybe it's about time," the scientist said.

On the hillside, Veronica gazed up at the myriad sparkling lights in the velvet darkness. "It's so beautiful. The most beautiful thing in the world."

"Almost," Malone said, his eyes on her face.

She smiled. "I want to thank you, Sir Malonda."

"And what would that be for, my lady?"

"For being a gentleman, and not taking advantage of the situation. You could have. I was we were"

Ned nodded, remembering how very close they had come to losing control. "Don't forget, you had a hand in it, too. I backed off, but one word, one touch, from you"

"I know. But it wasn't the right time, was it?"

"No." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "But maybe someday, the time will be right."

"I'm sure it will." She leaned forward and kissed his lips, and he wrapped his arms around her to enjoy the closeness of her. No more tentative, brother-sister kisses, he knew. They had learned some of the pleasures of the flesh, even if it hadn't been consummated. 

"Hey, you!" A female voice penetrated the rosy haze of passion they were experiencing. Ned lifted his head. Marguerite had come to the edge of the campsite, her hands on her hips, Roxton behind her, both grinning widely. "Careful up there! You have witnesses now!" 


End file.
